


Growing

by AreYouReady



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff, It's not a cultural misunderstanding when neither of you really understand the culture, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:06:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreYouReady/pseuds/AreYouReady
Summary: Weyoun 6 lived through his escape, and is now living on the station. He gives Odo a gift.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For @gemofsphene on tumblr, as part of the Trek Rarepair Swap.
> 
> I hate posting unfinished works, but I wasn't going to make the deadline if I tried to complete this thing. The rest should be up within a few days.

Odo began to read the weekly crime reports again. The list was short, almost nothing had happened in the past seven days, always an odd feeling. The first few times this had happened, in his first few years as security, he had wondered why he did not feel so triumphant as he might have thought. But now, after years of the significantly more peaceable rule of the Federation, the flatness of a crimeless week was expected. It was boredom, plain and simple.

Normally, he would amuse himself by quietly shapeshifting the tips of his fingers, or perhaps his boots, where no one could see. But today the tiny, inaudible, frustrated screams of Quark’s tiny, contorted, frustrated finger-face simple were not entertaining. He was distracted, by everything. By the war, by the strange quiet of the station, but most especially by…

The door to his office slid open, revealing his most salient distraction. The Vorta stared at the floor and trembled slightly, as he always did in Odo’s presence. This morning, he was cupping a clump of soil in his hands, and dry crumbs of it were spilling from his fingers as he walked, ripped free by the wind.

“O-Odo,” Weyoun began, before Odo could process the situation in front of him.

“What is it, Weyoun?” Odo responded without thinking, and the level of annoyed gruffness that most of the station’s inhabitants knew to expect from him caused the eager-to-please Vorta to jump slightly. Though Odo noticed that he did not drop the handful of dirt.

“Oh! Forgive me, Odo, I meant no-” Weyoun began his usual verbal genuflecting, but Odo cut him off.

“Weyoun, I am not a founder. We’ve discussed this. I don’t want you treating me like one.” He was careful to keep his voice calm and level, as though speaking to a scared animal. Even if Vorta were perhaps the solids with the least claim to the name animal, considering their origins.

“Ah. Yes.” Weyoun swallowed and nodded. He took a step forward, holding out his cupped hands before him. “I wanted to give you this.” He bobbed on his toes just slightly. Odo looked at the dirt. He narrowed his eyes.

“Very interesting,” Odo replied, after a long moment. “What is it?” Weyoun looked shocked for a moment, then went back to his subservient neutral.

“I was… told, by Madam O’Brien, that it’s a local custom to give flowers as a symbol of affection. Have I been misinformed?” Weyoun’s eyes were wide.

“…No.” Odo stared at the dirt again. “Though it’s not exactly a _local_ custom. And I still don’t understand.”

“Oh, well. You see, Vorta have no symbols to express… fondness. We live our lives in service to the Founders, and have no need for such things. I thought that you might appreciate a gesture of my… regard, for you, that was different than the usual gestures that we, that is, Vorta, reserve for our… their Gods.” He smiled timidly, and presented his cupped hands, holding up the clump of soil like some kind of religious offering. Which, Odo supposed, it was. Weyoun was doing his best to follow the letter of Odo’s plea not to treat him like a Founder, but he was still, clearly, having trouble with the spirit.

“I still don’t see what this has to do with a handful of dirt,” Odo said, and internally flinched as Weyoun’s face fell again.

“I planted a seed for you. I thought that if you could see the whole lifespan of the flower, it might be better than just the cut, dead part. If you don’t like it, I can-” Weyoun began to withdraw his hands, but Odo interrupted him.

“No, no. Weyoun…” he trailed off. Weyoun was frozen in front of him, a look of absolute veneration on his face, and his hands were full of dirt. There was a trail of tiny dropped clumps leading out the door of his office, and presumably all the way to… wherever Weyoun had gotten said dirt. Weyoun’s uniform, which he still wore, even though he no longer served the Dominion, was soiled at the cuffs from digging. Seeing the once-future-regent of the Alpha Quadrant in such a state was a striking absurdity.

Odo turned to the replicator, and asked it for a large mug. He turned back to Weyoun to see the Vorta staring at him in confusion.

“For the flower. Put it in here.” He held out the mug across his desk, and Weyoun carefully released the dirt from his cupped hands into the mug.

“You are wise, Odo,” Weyoun said, smiling hopefully. Odo did his best not to wince as about ten percent of the soil missed the cup and was released onto his desk. Odo hoped that the seed Weyoun had planted had not fallen out with all that waste.

“Don’t say that. I’m not a Founder.” Weyoun’s face fell. Odo sighed. “I mean… you don’t have to say that kind of thing to me. I’m not better than you.”

“Of course.” Weyoun bowed his head. Then he looked up. “Do you like it?” He nodded his head toward the mug full of dirt. Odo closed his eyes for a moment.

“…yes. I like it very much. Thank you, Weyoun,” Odo gritted. Weyoun beamed.

“Then I shall not take you away from your duties any longer!” and with that, Weyoun bowed from the waist and walked out, a noticeable spring in his step. Once the door was closed, Odo harrumphed at his retreating back, and set about replicating water for his new charge, and a cloth to clean up the mess on his desk.


End file.
